Fierce
by Stephane Richer
Summary: Shinkai is really quite attractive, that piercing stare and those plump lips and well-shaped ears and that striking crimson hair that falls across his face and touches his neck


Fierce

Disclaimer: don't own

Notes: Day 6 of the 30 Day Cheesy Tropes Challenge by ghiraher on tumblr: spin the bottle

* * *

Juichi fiddles with his shoelace; parties are supposed to be fun and this one, the first one of their second year in middle school, isn't—there's been dancing and his only rhythm is his feet stuck to the pedals and the road beneath the tires and his breathing, still too heavy—he can't glide around with the girls who are still taller than he is and grin and wink or even really sway his hips to the music. There's nothing else to do but stand in the corner and pretend he's somewhere else, but of course it makes him the prime target for joining spin-the-bottle.

He doesn't particularly want to do this either; girls are mysterious creatures who giggle and bat their eyelashes and turn up their heads at him and flounce away, and he doesn't want to put his mouth against theirs. His brother told him that you have to stick your tongue in a girl's mouth and there's not much out there that appeals less to him—dropping out of a race because he's missed the time cutoff, maybe. But only weaklings back out and Juichi isn't weak.

They organize themselves into a rough circle and Juichi finds himself in the middle; a couple of the girls giggle and some of them look absolutely terrified and he hopes for a few seconds that he might land on one of them but that might make it even worse. At least a girl who's prepared will just get it over with.

It doesn't occur to him that he might land on a guy until the bottle stops and lands on Shinkai of all people.

"Well," says the girl who'd organized the thing.

Shinkai blinks up at Juichi slowly.

"I…um…I guess you can spin again?"

Shinkai's lips—he's never thought about them before, really, other than noting their distinctive shape—actually look kind of appealing. And kissing Shinkai won't make things awkward; he won't be expected to ask him out or anything. Shinkai's just a guy and it won't mean anything at all.

"It landed on him. I'll kiss him."

One girl squeals.

"As expected of Fukutomi-san," says another girl.

Juichi crouches down in front of Shinkai, and Shinkai smiles at him—there's something different in his eyes this time, something that sends an unfamiliar (but not entirely uncomfortable) jolt through his belly. He leans forward and places his lips on Shinkai's—they're wet, and seeing Shinkai up this close is disconcerting. Is he supposed to close his eyes now? Shinkai pulls away before he can decide.

He gets to his feet and something inside of him jolts again. Shinkai is really quite attractive, that piercing stare and those plump lips and well-shaped ears and that striking crimson hair that falls across his face and touches his neck, and he's probably been attracted to him for a while now without actually realizing it and even if he wasn't before he sure as hell is now.

* * *

He doesn't do anything about it for a while—what is he supposed to? Is he supposed to do anything about it at all? It crops up at the most uncomfortable times, like in practice when he falls back behind Shinkai and relishes the way his ass looks on that bike seat and off it—it's improper; his climbing techniques need so much work but all he can focus on is Shinkai's rear in front of him—it's another thing he's never really paid attention to and it honestly wasn't much of anything before but the years of training are paying off and it's beginning to get larger and firmer and Juichi wants to touch it—he clenches his hands harder on the handlebars instead, doubling his resistance. These impure thoughts have no place on the road; he is strong enough to resist.

Or maybe he doesn't need to; Shinkai catches him in a dusty part of the bike shed and he sinks back among the rusty, deflated tires; this time Shinkai puts his tongue into his mouth and Juichi doesn't really know what he should be doing so he just copies Shinkai—where is he supposed to put his hands? Do they go on his hips or is that too much; is it too soon? Why is he so self-conscious when they've seen each other naked too many times to count, when they've slept next to each other under the stars, when they've ridden shoulder-to-shoulder against the wind, when they've crashed in a heap at the bottom of the hill together and refused to cry no matter how much their shins were torn up and covered in dirt and when they rolled into the ditches in the rain like road kill and pulled each other out into the mud, when they kissed for the first time so many months ago—and the combination of all those things plus Shinkai's soft, plump lips and aggressive tongue, are making it too difficult to think, and Juichi draws back.

"Is this okay?"

Shinkai is flushed, more out of breath than he's ever been on the road. He nods.

* * *

Shinkai leans against his back, hands in loose fists and legs stretched out in front of him—Juichi can picture him exactly as he is without looking, although he very much wants to look.

Shinkai would prefer him not to right now so he doesn't, concentrating instead on the history textbook in his hands. And being like this is enough; it's enough that Shinkai trusts him enough to lean on him right now, to stick close to him, to bump his shoulder against Juichi's in the daylight and at night be far more forthcoming—it's enough for now; Juichi's got faith in the future and faith in Shinkai himself.

Shinkai sighs; that's Juichi's cue that it's okay to turn around. He gives him a few more minutes before placing the textbook on his desk and turning around. Shinkai leans back on his hands and tilts his head up, blinks—Juichi gets this eerie sense of déjà vu, like he's seen this exact expression once upon a time and then it clicks. Knowing Shinkai he might or might not have done it on purpose. Juichi exhales.

Shinkai closes the gap between their lips; the kiss is quick and close-mouthed but entirely different from the one in the dimly-lit basement on that night when he didn't know how badly he wants to bruise Shinkai's gorgeous thighs with the tightness of his fingers and when he didn't know the way Shinkai's fingers twist tightly in his hair and when he didn't know the taste of Shinkai more than any other taste, the slight tanginess mixed in with bitersweet, and when he didn't know how much or how fiercely he loves Shinkai.


End file.
